


Pandora's Box

by themoonandmargot



Series: North Star [2]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 06:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonandmargot/pseuds/themoonandmargot
Summary: god, there were so many times i wished we weren't soulmates.





	Pandora's Box

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, it's been a while! This is a continuation of my fic, [North Star](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19908301). Please read that fic before reading this one; I'd even suggest rereading it as a refresher for those who read it months ago when I posted it.
> 
> It is a complete fic in itself, and the story can end there if you want it to, but _this fic_ is a special one for the Shaymien shippers out there <33
> 
> There are many stories across many universes, go and choose the one you want. Happy reading!

_ I never planned for us to be soulmates, to be frank. _

_ Hope is a different beast. I had hoped for the longest time that maybe, the stars above would grant me a single sparkling wish, or at least a favor. I had hoped for a collision, one not too different from our reality. I had hoped to love you the way I always had, but now in the open for everyone to see. _

_ But deep down, past all the 11:11’s and heads-up pennies, I knew the worst thing I could do was play a game against fate. I realized the only way to save myself was to hope for less hope. It’s a concern made most relevant now that we’re here. _

_ I’ll always love being your best friend. I’ll always cherish that. _

_ But god, there were so many times I wished we weren’t soulmates. _

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

Shayne likes comparing his most recent breakup to a fart. Well, he doesn’t enjoy the analogy per se; in fact, he hates remembering the cold shock in which it left him, the way it took hold of him and ravaged him in ways that changed him forever. Silent yet deadly, so the saying goes, and it couldn’t be truer and harsher and sadder. The “fart” part is actually what makes the entire situation bearable, and that’s saying something. No, the real pity comes from the fact that Shayne’s been through worse breakups, ones that weren’t even his.

He remembers the moment he found out Damien had broken up with his girlfriend. It was an early call, right at the crack of dawn. Such a _ Damien _ time to call—not in the middle of the night when Shayne was sleeping, not when he needed Shayne most, and not any time later, when Shayne would be prepping breakfast or sweating up a morning workout.

The exact time for the least inconvenience. _ That’s the time you know something’s really, really wrong. _

Shayne skips the gym that morning to visit Damien’s apartment. It’s messier than when he was last there, yet somehow more delicate. Fragile, the air around them, as they stand quiet in the kitchen. It’s only with a shake of his head that Damien can speak.

“We broke up last night,” he gruffs. He downs the rest of his coffee before clinking the mug into the sink. “Or I guess, she broke up with me.”

Shayne exhales, shoulders sinking. “Dude… I’m sorry.”

Damien shrugs, and like a ghost, he passes by Shayne. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

Shayne follows Damien into the living room, back where the tattered couch welcomes them. Shayne feels strange sitting there, too intimate, swallowed in the powdery cast of the early morning sunlight. He almost drowns in it all until Damien takes a breath and breaks the silence.

“We were in my room, and our shirts were off, and all of a sudden she just wanted to check if our soulmarks were gone." Damien's eyes flicker downwards. "And she didn't like what she saw, so…"

"Well, that's not your fault. That's…"

"Fate's?"

"Hers." Damien's face falls and Shayne continues. "I mean, for caring about soulmarks and all that. It shouldn't have mattered to her, not as much as… y'know, how she feels about you. If all she cares about in a partner is whether or not they're her soulmate or not, then... she's probably not the one for you."

"But can you blame her?" Damien hisses. "Wouldn't you want to know if the person you're giving your entire life to is even worth your time?"

Damien looks at Shayne, his eyes a fiery amber. There's an uncomfortable relevance to his question that makes Shayne's cheeks flush, makes his heart clench and drop to his stomach. _ No. But you love regardless, _ Shayne wants to say. Instead, he smiles the thought away, knowing it's too honest for the both of them, and settles for a curt "no".

"Huh," Damien snickers, throwing himself back into the couch. "Well, you're officially a better person than I am."

“Nah. I’m just dumber.”

For the first time that morning, Damien musters his first smile. Pain still sits behind his eyes, but now the light washes yellow over the room and Shayne before him, and Damien realizes it’s hard to be sad in the presence of two suns. “I think I’m okay now. Thank you,” he murmurs. _ You always know how to make me feel better, _ he murmurs, even quieter, in the thrum of his heart.

He wastes no time dwelling on heart whispers or soft smiles, though, as he propels himself off the couch and offers to make breakfast for the both of them. Shayne rejects the suggestion just as quickly—_ you’re nuts if you think I’m gonna let you operate a stove right now. We’re going out for breakfast, my treat. _

And somehow, it all works out. Shayne tries to remember that when his own breakup rolls around:

Things will be okay.

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

In the two years Shayne spends taking time for himself, things actually are okay. He finds there’s something freeing about being single, about not constantly searching for a universe-approved companion. Rather, he lets the universe do its work and figures that his soulmate will come into his life when they’re supposed to. Who knows, maybe it’s just a matter of time; maybe his soulmate is already right in front of him.

None of that means he’s _ avoiding _ the search, though, as he joins Courtney on a nighttime bar crawl in downtown L.A. The night is long and Shayne doesn’t drink much, but they both still manage to enjoy themselves, up until the Uber drive back to Shayne’s apartment.

Courtney barely makes it inside in one piece, stumbling into the doorway in a bout of laughter. Eventually, the door shuts behind them and Shayne helps Courtney to his couch before he heads to the kitchen for some well-needed water.

Courtney rather eagerly accepts the glass he gives her, sloshing the water into her mouth and across her dress then burping loudly in disgust. “God,” she groans, “I fucking hate bars.”

Settling into the opposite side of the couch, Shayne snickers. “Then why’d you just get wasted at four of them?”

Courtney gulps down another swig of water. “‘Cause I hate being single.”

Shayne laughs at first, then sighs—_ same boat, bitch. _ It’s now that he would expect a _ stop sulking! _ smack on the arm from Courtney, but seeing how tipsy she is right now, Shayne figures he has to direct his own mind to somewhere less destructive.

He focuses on the warm haze of his living room, on the quiet candlelight dancing along the furniture. It’s messing with his eyes (though the liquor in his system isn’t helping), and he looks away, back to the constant that is his own body. He dwells on his hands, resting atop his lap where, strangely, he imagines a cat might sit. The cat is fluffy and warm and _ big, _ but it’s not his. _ Aww, _ he hears the owner coo behind him, _ she likes you. _

“I like you, too,” Shayne mumbles, maybe at the cat but probably somewhere else, and he’s shocked to see the cat blink out of existence the moment he remembers that he’s really just talking to himself.

So he turns back to Courtney. There isn’t a cat on her lap, as he had suspected. There is, however, a reddish splotch on her left knee that wasn’t there before. He stares at it, thinking it’s another shadowy mind trick, but it stares back and solidifies its existence. Shayne squints. “Courtney, are you bleeding?”

“Hmm?” Courtney’s out of it, too, but she clearly knows what he’s talking about as she glances at her knee. “I dunno, am I?”

“I think you are. You must’ve scraped it on the way in or something.”

“Oh.”

“Here, I’ll get you some stuff to clean it with,” Shayne says, teetering to his feet. He makes it one step before Courtney speaks up.

“No, wait, it’s alright. It doesn’t even hurt,” she says.

“Are you sure?” Shayne asks, frowning. “I just don’t want it to get infected or anything.”

“No, yeah, I’m fine,” Courtney slurs. She reaches for her knee, her fingertips grazing over the redness as if to make a point.

Shayne frowns at the sight. He steps forward, peering closer at the wound. “I dunno, I think it’d be better if we at least wipe it with a damp paper towel or something, just so it’s–“

“God, shut up, I’m _ fine!” _ Courtney bellows. She immediately crumples at the sight of Shayne’s stunned face, as she ducks her head down and rubs at her temples. “You’re being a fucking… annoying big brother again,” she sniffles behind her hand.

Shayne freezes, watching Courtney cry quietly, before approaching her slowly. He sits on the ottoman across from her. “Hey, I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I know, I know,” Courtney breathes. She keeps her eyes down as she shakes her head and readies her voice for the truth. “My left knee, it’s where… that’s where it used to be.”

Shayne keeps entirely still. “Where what used to be?”

Courtney wipes the tears away and throws her hands down onto her lap. “Where my… stupid soulmark used to be,” she sighs.

Shayne doesn’t react—not audibly, at least. Inside, he’s screaming, the sirens of _ new information _ blaring in his head. But the internal commotion is all the more reason to shut up and listen, so Courtney sees this as an invitation to continue.

“That’s where they told me it was, I mean, before Kari held me. I was so young and they didn’t even take any photos of it other than the hospital one, but… I love my sister. I love that we’re soulmates. ‘Cause no one ever talks about that stuff, y’know? Platonic soulmates in the family... But once you find a soulmate, you’re done. No one’s interested. No one in a bar is going to talk to you unless you lie and tell them that... you can still be _ the one.” _ She snorts. “Or that you’re horny and desperate.”

Shayne winces. “I never thought about that.”

“Back in school, no one ever cared about soulmates. All those stupid hormones,” Courtney gruffs. “But now I’ve never been so single, and so aware of why I am. I’ve never… worried so much about not being enough for someone.” Then Courtney sinks, voice dropping to a murmur. “I’ve never been so afraid of loving someone the wrong way.”

The hair on Shayne’s neck stands on end. He swallows, the bitter taste of familiar worries sinking back on his tongue. He spits them away with a favorite assurance of his own. “Courtney… there’s no wrong way to love someone.”

Courtney looks to Shayne, eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. She smiles, a bitter thing, and laughs. “I’m happy that you’re able to believe that, Shayne.”

Shayne watches, shellshocked, as she gulps down the rest of her water and nestles deeper into the couch. Something tells him that she’ll be staying the night—not that he minds. He’d rather her be safe and sulking in his apartment than in the backseat of some stranger’s car.

But as he bandages up her knee and heads off to bed, her words replay in his head, over and over again.

And for a moment, Shayne thinks he might just hate her for it.

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

Two weeks after finding his soulmate, Shayne is warm.

Well, that doesn’t say much, not during summer in L.A. But he imagines that spending his weekend wedged between Damien and two humongous cats might have something to do with it.

They’ve been stuck in this position for a while now, for as long as they’ve been binging this weird Netflix anime. Shayne doesn’t know how they ended up half-slumped across each other, and though he’s probably going to walk away from this with a major crick in his neck, he doesn’t mind it. In fact, if he closes his eyes and focuses on the warmth, he can pretend that this was completely intentional, that they both let this happen and this is completely normal for them–

“Ah. So they ended it with a cliffhanger.”

Shayne opens his eyes to the startling absence of sound. The TV screen has returned back to the main menu, and like a cue, both he and Damien shift away from each other.

“Mm, like the first season,” Shayne yawns, careful not to scare the cats away. “So it’s done, then?”

“Looks like it, at least until they make the third season. But who knows when that’ll be, y’know?”

“Ugh, you’re right. Dangit, Netflix!”

“They better upload it soon. This was lots of fun,” Damien says. Then he looks to Shayne, a soft smile on his lips. “Thanks for watching it with me, man.”

Shakily, Shayne exhales and smiles back. “Uh, yeah, of course. I had a lot of fun, too.”

He’s dizzy all of a sudden, the hazy memories of talks on the couch flooding back to him. This isn’t the same room as before, not even the same building, but there’s a sickly sort of déjà vu in the way the early afternoon sunlight hits Damien’s face, the way his own heartbeat echoes in his chest. Shayne thought after sorting out all that soulmate business during Summer Games, he wouldn’t have to deal with _ this _ anymore, whatever it is. Now he’s not so sure.

Still, he breathes a bit easier when Damien gets to his feet and stretches. “Wait here, I needa grab something from my room.”

Stunned, Shayne watches Damien head towards the staircase, and laughs. “What? What are you getting?”

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise... ” Damien whirls around, flinging a finger in Shayne’s direction. “...for you.”

Shayne lets out a sputtered laugh as Damien runs up the stairs. The commotion sends the cats scurrying off the couch, and it’s not long until Damien’s skipping back down the stairs to take his pets’ place. He keeps his hands behind him as he plops onto the cushions, this time to the other side of Shayne. He’s smiling, but Shayne notices the nerves behind the quick shift of his eyes. Somehow it makes him nervous, too.

“So,” Damien breathes. “I know we said we’d carry on like we always did, but… I figured us being soulmates called for a little flourish.”

Shayne blushes. “Oh.”

“Keyword ‘little’, um… Here.” Damien pulls his arms in front of him, presenting a small, blue box. “It’s probably not the coolest gift you’ll ever receive, but I know you had something like this that you used to wear all the time before, and…”

“Hey. If it’s from you, it’s automatically the coolest thing in the world.” Much to Damien’s relief, Shayne smiles and accepts the box. It’s light in his hand, no larger than his open palm. He has no idea what lies behind its rectangular lid, but once he pulls it off, everything makes sense.

“Oh my god. Yeah, I did wear a necklace like this for a really long time,” Shayne gasps, holding the gift in the air. It’s a key, hanging by a skinny, silver chain. Though similar to his old necklace, it’s less stylized and more clearly a standard house key.

“It’s a key for my apartment,” Damien explains, confirming Shayne’s suspicions. “So you can stop by whenever.”

“Aw, wow. Thank you, Damien. This is awesome,” Shayne breathes. He twirls the key once between his fingers, before meeting Damien’s eyes. “I wonder how many times I’m gonna freak Mark out with this.”

The corner of Damien’s mouth twitches upward before he looks away entirely, down at his lap. “Well, it’s actually not a key to this apartment. It’s for my new one.” Then he beams, throwing his hands up in surprise. “I have my own place!”

It takes a second for the words to process, then: “Wait, what? Damien, _ what?” _ Shayne’s hands fly to Damien’s arms and Damien leans into the touch, cackling at his response. “Dude, congratulations! What the hell? What are we doing hanging out here when you have you have a whole-ass apartment to yourself?”

Damien tries to catch his breath through the giggles. “I’m still in the process of moving in. I have like, zero furniture,” he heaves. “Granted, I’d probably have more stuff moved in if I shared the news with more people who could actually help me, but where’s the fun in that?”

Shayne shakes his head and releases Damien with a playful push. “God, you’re so dumb.”

“Shayne, where’s the _ intrigue _ in that?”

“Shut… _ up.” _

They laugh, all the while watching the wide smiles on each other’s face. Shayne has to tell himself to look away after the laughter dies down, away from Damien’s goofy grin and the pinkish hues on his cheeks. He instead looks at the necklace in his hand, the key of things that feel much larger than either of them will admit, and he opens the clasp.

“Y’know,” Shayne says, bringing the necklace around his neck, “I’m happy for you, but not gonna lie, I’m sort of surprised. I thought you didn’t like living alone.”

A moment passes. Shayne’s turned so he can’t see Damien’s face, but he hears the struggle in Damien’s voice when he speaks. “Hmm. Yeah, I didn’t.” Then Damien takes the chain from Shayne’s hands. “But that was before I stopped feeling lonely.”

For a second, Shayne forgets how to breathe. He becomes all-too-aware of the brush of Damien’s fingers along his, and he drops his arms to the side, the same moment the chain drops slack against his neck.

Shayne musters a smile when he turns back around to face Damien. Damien smiles back, just as quiet, just as careful. The necklace is on. And Shayne gets the feeling that the key hanging over his heart is his, and also not his, all at once.

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

_ In my classes, they say that a healthy way of practicing mindfulness is to imagine each negative emotion you have as a tangible object, then question why it’s here. After all, every emotion is only trying to help you. It’s a physical reaction to something that shouldn’t be ignored, no matter how badly we want to. _

_ Us being soulmates terrified me and I didn’t know why. So I materialized the emotion and asked it, “Why are you here?” My fear stems from dread and self-protection, so it appears. But what is there to dread about being soulmates with your best friend? Why would I ever have to protect myself from you? _

_ The further I looked into it, the clearer it became. I was— _ _ am _ _ feeling something that I really shouldn’t be feeling. There’s no way you feel the same way. Even in the off-chance that you did, you’d never tell me. It’s too risky. Even for soulmates. But especially for best friends. _

_ I’m still afraid I’m gonna take the gamble and lose everything. _

_ I think– _

The screen blurs as footsteps approach and the doorknob rattles, rattles Damien out of his seat. He is shaking when the door swivels open to reveal his best friend, his soulmate, the author of the words on the screen.

Shayne doesn’t suspect a thing. He asks Damien if he’s read through his script yet. _ No, I… I haven’t, _ Damien stammers. He’s standing now, forming as much space possible between himself and Shayne’s laptop—like running away from the crime scene. Damien feels his heart rise to his throat when Shayne sits in front of the screen, then it sinks to his feet as Shayne chuckles and swipes his finger across the mousepad.

_ Wow, can’t even navigate your own soulmate’s Google Drive, huh? _

Damien had closed the tab in his panic, so it seems. What luck.

So now Shayne’s bedroom is a coffin, small and suffocating. Damien knows he should say something. Damien wants to say something. But there are a million words plus one _ I’m sorry _ on his tongue that he can’t for the sake of him let out, for a reason that has him asking, _ why are you here? why are you here? _ He knows, though, why he’s furious and even more terrified than Shayne.

_ Because you never got to read those last few words. Because there’s only one way to know the truth. _

_ Because all that’s left is hope, and it’s at the bottom of Pandora’s Box. _

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

The balcony is empty, quiet save for the muffled sounds of the festivities inside. The last hints of sunlight drain the sky of blue and the air turns chill in the dark. Here, Shayne stands alone.

He should join the rest of them, really. Some might find it suspicious that he’s out here by himself, but then again, that’s assuming people actually care enough to notice his absence. No, this is about him, and he knows there’s no use in moping about things when there’s a whole lineup of liquor to help him forget his own problems, even if temporarily. Luckily, the slide of the glass door behind him saves him from making that decision.

“Hey.”

Unluckily, it’s _ him. _

Shayne swivels on his heel at the sound of Damien’s voice, and smiles. “Hey,” he greets. “On a scale of one to ten, how wasted is everyone in there?”

Snorting, Damien joins Shayne’s side at the balcony. “Uh, well, I’d say most of the people here are at a slightly-buzzed three, but there are definitely a few who are threatening to tilt the entire scale to six.”

Shayne chuckles. “Oof.”

“Yeah, ‘oof’.” Damien grins nervously, catching his thumbnail between his teeth. “Maybe this party was a bad idea.”

“Aw, c’mon, that’s not true. This party had to happen, with the new apartment and the found soulmate…” Shayne smirks. “I mean, I was only in there for half an hour and I had like, eight people congratulate me for being un-soulmate-less! That’s what’s happening, dude. They’re just celebrating you.” Shayne watches, waits for the familiar smile on his friend’s face that’ll prove everything is okay. Except, it doesn’t come.

Damien steadies his gaze on the pavement below. His entire face twitches, a pained bunching of skin and brow that worries Shayne. Then, shaking his head, he pulls his thumb out his mouth and replaces the space with a single, shuddering breath—_ I’m sorry. _

He lets his head fall forward and his spine bends with it, each vertebrae seeping with guilt. He knows Shayne knows that something’s wrong between them—hell, he wouldn’t have stepped out the party if nothing was wrong in the first place—but when Shayne’s achingly soft voice asks him what’s wrong anyway, Damien senses that nothing could be worse than this.

“God, I’m sorry, I…_ I read your entries.” _

No one moves for a solid thirty seconds. Nobody even breathes. But Shayne breaks the silence first, with a bombshell of his own: “I know.”

Damien finally looks up, his eyes a weary red. “You know?”

“It was the second thing in my ‘recently opened’, right after the script I showed you. Of course I know.” Shayne glances away. “I’m sorry you had to read all that.”

“I invaded your privacy. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Shayne shakes his head and turns away from the railing, instead taking a seat on the balcony chair, the one he had helped set out days ago. “We’re soulmates," he murmurs, eyes downcast. "You’d have to know sooner or later.”

He doesn’t look up when Damien moves to sit in the wicker chair beside him. He doesn't see the way Damien bunches his trembling hands into fists, doesn't hear the breeze pick up and scatter about him the silent prayers of _ give me a sign, show me I've guessed right, please don't let me back out of this now. _ Soon the party inside grows quieter and quieter, further and further away until it's just the two of them on the balcony.

"Shayne," Damien murmurs, "for all the time we've known each other, did you really never think how you matter to me as much as you do?"

Shayne avoids Damien's eyes and swallows. "I know I matter to you," he says, voice childlike in its fear and frustration. "I just don't think I matter in the way you matter to me… or the way I want to matter."

For a moment, all the world falls silent. The two of them sit on the edge of something, everything, nothing at all. Damien almost doesn't respond. But then, like children drowsy from their slumber, the stars settle into the night sky; never would they miss an event like this, millions of years in the making.

“Shayne… I love you.”

Shayne stares at him, frozen. "What?" he rasps.

The words sit heavy in Damien's throat, but he persists. "That's not the soulmate talking. That's not the best friend, either. That's me." Damien swallows. "I'm in love with you."

The words take a moment to process, to break. That's all Shayne thinks he's capable of doing right now, _ breaking, _ with fidgeting hands and eyes that sparkle with all the doubt and hope in the world. _ "What?" _ he breathes again, trembling when Damien gets to his feet and pulls him into a hug.

"I love you a lot," Damien whispers into Shayne's shoulder. "I've loved you for a long time."

Shayne starts to cry, shaken by the revelation in his chest and on his tongue. "I've loved you since we were kids," he chokes. And suddenly Damien's crying, too.

They grapple on to each other, to the fact that they were scared to be best friends and terrified to be soulmates and better dead than something the universe told them not to be. Hell, they’re still scared, standing in each other’s arms.

But they’re still them. They always have been. And it turns out the universe didn’t mind a single bit.

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

_ I think I’m in love with you. _

_ I think I’m in love with you. _

_ I think I’m in love with you. _

Damien reads the words over and over again, making up for all the times before when he couldn’t. He’s alone again, this time in his own bedroom. It’s a place that has yet to feel like home, one missing the smell of cats and himself and the select few he allows in, specifically one with a key necklace–

"Hey, whatchya got there?" Damien looks away from the laptop screen to watch Shayne climb into bed with him, a sight nowhere near new considering all the time they’ve spent in each other’s spaces, but different and exciting nonetheless. So he lets Shayne peer over his shoulder, and Shayne laughs.

“God, reading this back is so embarrassing now,” he says, fingers fidgeting with the bedsheets. “All this worrying about nothing.”

“You keep calling things that weren’t nothing ‘nothing’. Gaining feelings for someone you think you’re not supposed to have feelings for isn’t nothing.” Damien studies the meek look across Shayne’s face and feels his own face soften in response.

It’s then the pain and pining resurface, like so many times before. For a moment, Damien remembers the sensation of his own heart whirring in his chest, of understanding his emotions though not how to act on them. But now Damien senses the pull between them, the weight of their two bodies on his one bed. He’s fortunate to be here; he’s finally in a position to make a move. And he doesn’t know how he musters the courage to do it, but Damien pulls Shayne’s hand away from sheets and holds it—something very, _ very _ new, and very different.

“It was scary stuff, Shayne… for the both of us.”

Shayne squeezes Damien’s hand when Damien squeezes his first. Somehow it’s all Shayne needs to open up, though not without taking a big breath beforehand.

“It still is scary, in some ways,” he confesses, slowly. “But I asked it what was up, and turns out it’s a good scary.”

Lightning-fast, Damien turns to Shayne. “Yeah?”

Shayne meets Damien’s eyes. “Yeah.”

They grin at each other, radiant, until it hits them. Everything is different—suddenly, tangibly. For once, their future shines so bright that it blinds them. For once, the future is theirs.

So they lean in and take it. The sheets are warm and the lights in the room are warm and everything bubbling in their chests is warm, warm, _ hot, _ when Shayne and Damien kiss for the first time. Neither of them will remember who made the first move (or rather, who caved first), but it doesn’t matter, not when there are more important things to memorize, like the slide of Damien’s hand up Shayne’s arm, or the feeling of feeling something new. It’s overwhelming: strength in vulnerability, sweet masculinity—on their tongues, along their fingertips, out and trembling in the open, yet standing its ground.

Eventually Shayne leans away, but not too far. His eyes glow underneath Damien’s shadow. “Scary good, too,” he murmurs, and Damien hums in agreement before kissing him again, and again.

_ I think I’m in love with you, _ the first kiss says.

_ I know I’m in love with you, _ whispers the second.

Then the third kiss comes, and the rest, and never before did words seem so insignificant.


End file.
